abulia
by hamstamasta
Summary: [Post KHII drabbles] 02: I'm not dead, you know. [Axel x Roxas, slight Axel x Sora]
1. nocturne of the moon

**A/N: **abulia - abnormal lack of ability to act or to make decisions. Takes place after Kingdom Hearts II. Spawned of boredom and annoyance that no one has reviewed chapter 2 of Aphelion (eye twitch). Enjoy.

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**abulia **  
_01: nocturne of the moon_**  
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Sometimes the moonlight tricked him. Riku wandered the islands by day, floating aimlessly under the benevolent sun, caressed by butterfly breezes, sifting the fine sand between his fingers and drinking the salty air. Sometimes he would walk into the ocean, sloshing through the warm, cerulean sea and stand there, staring out over the endless plain of water until he could see nothing and hear nothing and only feel.

Kairi would keep him company during such times. She knew well enough to keep her distance, watching the pearly-haired boy from afar. She would wait until he turned to her, emerald eyes dead as rocks underneath silken ivory locks which he refused to tame. Then she would take him gently by the arm and lead him around town, reintroducing him to old friends and old haunts and edging him, inch by inch, away from the shadows in which he had dwelled for so long. Sometimes Riku would bit his lip until the red drops beaded on the delicate pink skin and trickled down his chin. After being trapped in the dark for so long, the beauty of the island _burned _him, the sound of joyous laughter _scorched _him, even the light itself caged him in agony. It was all he could do to keep his face straight and not cry.

_You take on too much by yourself, _Kairi would say. _You don't always have to put the world on your shoulders, Riku. _

The young man would merely stare ahead and whisper. _I've made my bed and now I have to lie in it. _She could never convince him of otherwise.

While the day belonged to Kairi, the night belonged to Sora. While the sun was in the sky, Sora was never with them. He had a year's worth of time to explain to his mother, who had cried endlessly when Sora appeared on the doorstep, five inches taller, clothed in all black, and with tears in his luminous blue eyes.

But when the sky wore its ebony cloak and the stars flickered to life, the night belonged to Sora.

Sometimes the moonlight tricked him. Riku would pace the beach, reveling in the gentle shadows that embraced him. In the dark it was so much easier to shut out the world. To not see, to not be, just to exist.

And then he would see Sora. Sora, who perched on the white sands, the foamy tongue of the ocean lapping at his bare feet, wearing only long shorts, deep in thought. Riku would approach, seeking companionship, Sora's gentle touch, Sora's smile. Sora could understand.

And sometimes the moonlight would trick him. Because when he stood over Sora and tapped the boy's firm shoulder and Sora turned, the eyes of the Keyblade master would be shining their luminescent blue, but the boy's hair would be gold. And his lips would be pulled into something of a pout. And his honey gold skin would be stolen by the moonlight, replaced by the pale skin that had not known the kiss of the island sun.

Roxas, the other.

_Where is Sora? _Riku would ask, impatient and disconcerted by the Nobody.

_He's sleeping, _Roxas would say, _so I'm awake. _He would pat the sand beside him in invitation, luminescent blue eyes glowing in the fragile light.

Riku would lower himself cautiously next the imposter. He could not bring himself to trust this boy, who looked and felt and smelled and probably tasted like Sora, but was not Sora at all.

But where Sora was naïve and awkward when it came to his body, Roxas was curious and eager and did not have the reservations of his other. Roxas would run his fingers through Riku's hair, savoring the feel of each satin strand. Roxas would stroke his marble skin until he nearly felt alive. Roxas would kiss the graceful curve of Riku's neck, with warm lips that made Riku wonder if Sora's were just as hot and supple.

Roxas _would_, Roxas could, Roxas **did**. Roxas would do everything Sora would not, because his heart was not torn between two others. He really didn't _have_ a heart, anyways.

Sometimes Roxas would fall asleep in Riku's lap, curled up, and Riku would get to watch Sora emerge. The sun crept onto the horizon, a flaming beast leaking oranges and reds and grapefruit pink onto the surrounding clouds. Riku would gnaw on his lower lip again, the damned light burned and made him moan in caged agony. But by that time, the sunlight would paint the boy's hair toffee brown, replace his milk pale skin with honey gold, and his lips would be pulled into a sleepy, but cheerful smile. And Sora would look up at him with those luminescent blue eyes and touch Riku's cheek in his naïve way.

_You alright? _Sora would say. And then he'd realize where exactly he was lying.

Sora would jump off of his friend's lap, embarrassed and confused, rubbing his fingers on the back of his head sheepishly. Riku would give the ghost of a smile as Sora dashed off, yelling back some vague excuse about making his mother some breakfast.

Sometimes the moonlight tricked him. And Riku loved it. Because only in the moonlight did Sora belong to him.

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TBC?

Um… Monday mornings do this to you. **Review please!**


	2. elegy to embers

**A/N**: I'm wondering if my signed reviews don't work… well. Here's the randomness of post-KHII Axel.

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**abulia**

_02: elegy to embers_

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_To whom it may concern:_

I'm not dead, you know. I'm really not.

As long as the light remembers and the dark remembers, I don't think I can die. Unlike that idiot Xemnas, who no one cares to remember. He faded into oblivion, but I think it serves him right for being such a damned prick.

But unlike Xemnas, there's a shadow of me in Sora's heart. He remembers, though he probably doesn't understand why he cares. The feelings of a Keyblade master count for something—they create a light, a thread of luminosity, which can plunge into even this bitter darkness and create sanctum for my lost soul. Can't say thanks, but I do appreciate it.

He looks into the depths of flames, into red abyss with fire blue eyes and he'll always remember, with his hero's heart and his hero's light.

The name's Axel. Got it memorized?

Sora built me a grave. He set it up on this little island, away from the noise and curious eyes of the mainland. The sun beats down on it in flame rhythm, and it watches over the steady ocean far above the wet touch of the waves.

"I figured you wouldn't want to get wet," he says to the stone. Did you? You remembered I'm a fiery kinda guy, right? That's cute.

Sometimes he visits and talks to the stone, like I'm really there. He'll sit under the shade of the palm tree, the one that dangles succulent little star-shaped fruits over the square stone he hauled up there. He'll tell me all about Riku, and Kairi, and how strange it is to be home and not feel the strength of the Keyblade pulsing through him, singing rage to its Heartless foes. But there are no Heartless here, on this tiny scrap of serene rock surrounded by sea.

Except for me, of course, but I don't think that counts.

He'll bring me little presents sometimes. Obsidian rocks polished by the sea and rough emeralds, filled with sunlight and lined with veins of sparkling green, all left around my little gravestone. I like his company better than pretty rocks, but it's not like I can tell him that anyways.

The best present by far, though, is when Roxas comes to see me. Nothing in Sora's appearance changes—but there is something about his hair, flecked with golden light, or the tremor of his serious lips that lets me know. Roxas won't talk to me like Sora will—no rushed speech, no voice breathless from running here, no shimmering smiles, or little presents—he will only stare at my grave and remember. That's Roxas for you—a real bundle of joy, huh?

He silently promises, with all the strength in his heart—Sora's heart, really—that he will find some way to bring me back. I don't think he can, but the kid is so pig-headed he'll try anyways. I just don't want him to waste his feelings on me. I don't deserve a single of his unshed tears. I'm no one--just a tiny voice trapped in bitter darkness. Don't mind me, guys, I'm just a little shadow on the wall. Still, at times I wish I could reach out of this darkness and touch their hearts, these two boys who are coexisting and equal in their power and equal in their pain. At other times I wish I could reach out and tear apart the feelings for me, feelings that will never go away, though washed by the seas of time and buried among other memories and feelings. Roxas's feelings are better left unsaid and unidentified, best left buried in blue eyes.

Feelings are too much for me. Guess that's part of the package when you're a nobody. I don't need love, no matter how pure and hopeful, reflected in sapphire pools. Rather, I'd like to cut all the strings, singe the feelings until only the ashes are left for me, scorch everything until I don't exist and fade away like the ashes themselves. What can I say? I'd rather take the pain of destroying Roxas than the pain of watching him suffer for me. I'd rather be this silent shell. I don't need feelings--that's what I tell myself anyways. Keeps me sane, you know.

Remembering is good enough. As long as the light remembers and the dark remembers, I won't die.

I won't fade.

The name's Axel. Got it memorized? They won't forget, for better or for worse. But I don't think you'll forget either. And as long as _you_ remember too, I don't think I'll be going anywhere anytime soon.

What is _anytime_, anyways? How much longer will I exist? Another fragile second? A hushed minute? A whispered eternity?

Oh, well. No need to get all sentimental, right? When it comes down to it, I guess spending eternity as a shadow is better than spending eternity as a nothing. It's just a shame that I don't have a magazine or something to pass the time... nothing but the ashes of feelings from a boy I love with all my desperation and the smiles of another boy who can't understand why he cares, but doesn't mind the feeling.

But I think it'll be enough. Don't worry about me. I'm just a shadow on the wall, right?

So until eternity, my friend…

_Signed,_

_ A nothing_

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Once again, the strangeness of Monday mornings.

Hope you enjoyed it. But I'm wondering—does this review button even WORK? Seriously, someone find out for me. Make a fellow author's day and review! T.T


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